


Our only witness

by Ferrera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Guilty Dean Winchester, M/M, Pre-Series, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sibling Incest, Temptation, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, kinda dark Sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrera/pseuds/Ferrera
Summary: “If we don’t sin, Jesus died for nothing,” Sam says, a dangerous little smile playing at his lips as he catches Dean’s gaze.





	Our only witness

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://akherousia.tumblr.com/post/51692290126/ph-by-sonya-kydeeva) picture. Sam's sixteen.

Sam pulls up his shirt, and Dean can’t look away. Doesn’t even try anymore, weakened. You can only put up a fight for so long. So Dean looks, too ragged and drained not to. Sam’s only two feet away. He’s not Jesus-on-the-cross skinny anymore, muscles starting to fill out, but he still hasn’t got an ounce of fat on him, still skinny enough for Dean to see all the little knobs of his spine. Dean’s aching to track the path with his fingertips, with his tongue, maybe, from the nape of his neck all the way down the small of his back. Has been aching to do that for too long. Feels like it’s not much longer until Sam will make him give in.  
  
  
Sam pulls his shirt over his head, drops it to the floor. He leans back against the wall, right next to the bronze little Jesus hanging on the cross. He’s showing off, not even being subtle anymore— he’s figured out it’ll take more than batting his eyelashes and showing bare thighs to get Dean to break. Probably knows by now it will take more than whispering filth in Dean’s ear and begging for Dean’s hands on him, too, so Dean waits, anticipating his next move.  
  
  
Sam runs a hand down his belly, lingers a little on the waistband of his jeans before reaching further down, cupping himself through the denim. He knows just how to keep Dean’s eyes on him, knows exactly what makes Dean’s mouth water at first and then run dry as guilt and shame come crashing in. He _knows_ how much Dean wants him. Knows how much it pains Dean, too.  
  
  
“If we don’t sin, Jesus died for nothing,” Sam says, a dangerous little smile playing at his lips as he catches Dean’s gaze.  
  
  
Dean ignores his words, averts his eyes from Sam’s, gaze dropping to his broadening chest, his pink, tight little nipples, down to his narrow waist and softly defined abs. Even now that he allows himself to look, he can’t ever get his fill.  
  
  
Forty days ago, they’d shared a gut-wrenching, devastating kiss. Dean still can’t tell who started it, but he does know it took him too long to stop it, to push Sam away. Forty long nights of twisting and turning had followed, and Sam had tempted him during every single one of them.  
  
  
He would crawl into Dean’s bed late at night, once he was sure Dad was out like a light. The first couple weeks, Dean would pretend to be asleep, rock hard dick trapped between his body and the mattress as Sam snuggled up to him, his voice soft and his breath warm as he’d whisper in Dean’s ear. It had started out fairly innocent— _Need to kiss you again, Dean, your mouth, God, I just can’t stop looking at it, need to feel your lips against mine again_ , but soon enough, Sam had upped the ante, making Dean regret all the times he’d watched porn in Sam’s presence. _Wanna touch you so bad, Dean, wanna touch your chest, your thighs, your ass. Need to touch your dick too, wanna feel it throbbing in my hand. Fuck, you’re so hot, Dean, I could come just lookin’ at you._  
  
  
Sammy couldn’t be fooled, though, _I know you’re awake, Dean, can’t keep your hips still, huh,_ and about a week later, Sam had put his money where his mouth was, pushing his hands under Dean’s sleeping shirt, touching his side, his back, the swell of his ass while he murmured in Dean’s ear, _I know you want it too, Dean, I see the way you look at me_ , and Dean couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer, turning on his side, biting out _Don’t, Sam_ as he’d shoved the kid away.  
  
  
Sam’s bewilderment at Dean’s sudden outburst had only lasted one night, but he kept his hands to himself the following week. Instead, he would push a hand inside his boxers, stroking himself as he let his eyes roam freely over Dean’s body in the dim light. Dean kept his hands firmly clenched into fists as he watched Sam’s hand moving faster and faster inside his underwear, watched the muscles in his stomach tense moments before he came, only looking away once Sam had caught his breath again and opened his eyes. At the very least, Sam never lasted long, and as he would quietly climbed out of Dean’s bed and back into his own, Dean would go back to feigning sleep, back to pondering where it all went wrong as he let the guilt and shame wash over him.  
  
  
Soon after Sam had started touching himself while lying right next to Dean, he’d picked up the talking again. _You’re so strong, Dean, love it when you pin me down when we spar. Wanna feel you holding me down while you fuck me,_ but Dean had never felt so weak, moments away from pushing the kid on his stomach and fucking him senseless.  
  
  
And then, last night— Sam had been begging him to show him his dick, _You can’t even hide how hard you are, I can see the outline clearly, and_ Dean had been aching for relief, told himself _it’s okay as long as you don’t touch Sammy_ , pushed a hand inside his boxers, taking his dick out, showing Sam. Sam’s eyes had gone wide as he’d watched Dean jerk it frantically, his gaze firmly fixed on Dean’s dick as he’d copied his movements.  
  
  
“Dean,” Sam says as he opens his fly, shoves his jeans and underwear down his thighs, “touch me. I know you want to.”  
  
  
Dean swallows hard at the sight of his baby brother’s cock curving up against his belly, stomach clenching as Sam takes himself in hand, stroking lazily as he looks up at Dean from under his eyelashes.  
  
  
“Stop fighting it, Dean. I can see how hard you are. Hell, I can see in your eyes how much you’re aching to touch me. It’s killing you, Dean.”  
  
  
Sometimes, Dean feels like whatever John’s been hunting for over fifteen years now, has been with them all along, hiding inside his little brother’s body.  
  
  
“I know what you think,” Sam continues, stilling his hand, making Dean look back up at him. “You think you’re responsible for me wanting you like this. You think you’re somehow to blame for how messed up I am.”  
  
  
Dean used to read Sam the holy book, back when Sam still insisted on being read bedtime stories and the only book available would be an old, leather-bound bible, stuffed in the back of a dusty nightstand drawer. He remembers searching for the most alluring passages; remembers telling Sam about the fall of Adam and Eve, about Cain killing Abel and the sins committed in Sodom and Gomorrah. Regrets it now, reading his baby brother the most obscene verses he could find, regrets telling nine-year-old Sammy about Tamar and Judah, about Lot and his daughters.  
  
  
“It’s not your fault, Dean. I’ve felt this way about you for as long as I can remember. There’s no helping that.”  
  
  
Sam’s the snake, the devil, Judas in disguise. And Dean—  
  
  
“You ain’t no Jesus, Dean. You can’t save me from sin.”  
  
  
“Sammy,” he says, helpless, “I’ll bring the both of us to ruin, I can’t do that,” but as Sam reaches out and grabs Dean’s hand, Dean no longer has it in him to pull away.  
  
  
“Lay it on me, Dean. The blame, the responsibility, your sins, you can lay it all on me.”  
  
  
Forty days and forty nights Dean had kept his hands to himself, hadn’t touched Sam once.  
  
  
Sam pulls Dean’s hand towards his bare chest. His fingertips are only inches away from Sam’s bare skin when Sam looks up at the cross beside him.  
  
  
“Jesus is our only witness.”  
  
  
He looks back at Dean, pulls him closer.  
  
  
Dean washes his hands.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> After seeing that pic, I wanted to write a little weecest ficlet in which I would compare them to Jesus and Judas, but since Jesus was free of sin, I couldn't make that work lol. In the end, I thought of Sammy as everything sinful, and Dean as Pontius Pilate, killing their once so pure brotherly love and laying the responsibility in Sam's hands, after Sam convinced him to. I still feel like this is a bit messy though, and I'd like to eventually give the whole religious themes thing another try. Anyway, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. 
> 
> Tumblr post including the pic can be found [here](https://saintedevote.tumblr.com/post/186103041639/sam-pulls-up-his-shirt-and-dean-cant-look-away).


End file.
